


Crawling in the Colosseum Dust

by callmejude



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Bucky Barnes but he does remember Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crawling in the Colosseum Dust

For the longest time after his rescue, Bucky does not allow touch from anyone. Tony brushes against him in the tower one night and Thor has to dive to catch him from being thrown into the wall. When Steve apologizes, Tony only shrugs it off. “I’m more durable than I look next to the likes of you and Space Tarzan, Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t really go near him again for a long time, after that. He still mocks him, which Steve now realizes is just part of his process with how he accepts people, but only ever does so at a distance.

Bucky doesn’t mind being teased, though Steve doubts he really understands that to be what’s happening.

It’s been several months when Steve reflexively pats Bucky’s shoulder as he sets out his breakfast. He flinches instantly, but nothing happens. Bucky glances from his shoulder to Steve before giving his full attention to his breakfast.

Hesitantly, Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder again, checking twice to make sure it’s the flesh and bone one; that he does feel it. Bucky only looks up at Steve curiously, as if assuming Steve is trying to get his attention.

When Steve tells the others, Thor bounds over to give Bucky a welcoming cuff on the shoulder, but Bucky throws his arm off and shirks back, taking a wary step toward Steve. The others don’t try. Only Steve is allowed.

For a month or so it’s only that: Steve is allowed, but not necessarily welcome. Bucky does not seek to be touched, and Steve only lets himself give it in small doses.

Eventually, however, Bucky seems to crave touch. He doesn’t quite know how to go about asking for it, so he doesn’t. He looms at Steve’s shoulder as he makes breakfast and waits for Steve to reach out and stroke his back.

When Steve watches TV on the couch, usually with Thor or Bruce or sometimes Tony, who is trying to introduce him to some other reference he just used that went unappreciated, Bucky sits on the floor in front of Steve’s feet and waits for Steve to absently play with his hair.

One evening Bruce comes downstairs to see Thor and Steve watching the Wizard of Oz. Thor watches on intrigued as Steve pleasantly explains the concept of movie magic and fantasy to him, not quite looking up from running through Bucky’s hair with a brush. Bucky isn’t watching, either, sketching quietly on a pad of paper, instead.

“You guys better be grateful I’m not Tony,” Bruce teases gently as he picks up an orange from the fruit bowl and starts to peel it, “At least you’ll hear the end of this from me.”

Steve chuckles, and Bruce sits against the arm of the couch to watch with them. Bucky looks up, willing to protect against the new intruder, but Steve just tisks at him. “Don’t move your head.”

Bucky silently goes back to drawing.

After the movie, Thor wanders into the kitchen to find them drinks, claiming to get ready for another film. Bruce watches as Steve threads Bucky’s hair into an elastic band before falling back into the couch. Realizing he no longer needs to lean forward, Bucky settles back against Steve’s legs.

Steve catches him staring and looks at him, embarrassed. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s sweet.” Bruce shrugs. “He trusts you.”

Steve sighs. “He barely remembers me.”

“You were small then,” Bucky says quietly from the floor. The other two both jump at the sound of his voice. Bucky doesn’t look up from his drawing. “Fragile. Breakable.”

Steve stares at him dumbly. Bucky doesn’t talk that much anymore. When he does it’s often to himself, in Russian.

“Buck…”

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky says it like he’s reciting lyrics from a song in another language. He doesn’t understand any meaning behind them, just the way they sound together.

Steve feels his stomach bottom out. He swallows hard but his mouth is dry.

Bucky is still sketching on his pad, not looking up as he speaks. This time his words have more cognizance in them. He sounds almost sad. “He didn’t come back, so you did something stupid.”

Steve can’t move. Bruce gets to his feet, stopping Thor on his way back into the living room. “We’re gonna watch a movie somewhere else, okay buddy?” he hisses, grabbing his arm and turning him in the other direction. Thor follows easily, glancing back at Bucky and Steve without asking questions.

 _He_ did _come back,_ Steve wants to argue, but the words won’t come out of his mouth. All he can manage is an odd gasping noise, as if he’d just been punched in the stomach.

Bucky doesn't say anything else. Steve sits dumbstruck for another minute before he finally leans forward and kisses the crown of his head.

He remembers once, when they were kids, laying in a pile of old comforters and pillows strewn out on the floor after Bucky had patched Steve up from yet another fight he was too small to have been in, Bucky had sat up on his elbows and told him seriously, “You have to be more careful, Steve. What if next time I’m not around to fix you up?”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve had argued lamely.

Bucky didn’t have a response to that, just sighed deeply and pulled Steve to his chest. 

They’d slept like that, straight into the afternoon, and Steve had never felt safer in his life.

Bucky moves awkwardly under Steve's touch after too long. He can sense something is wrong and doesn’t know what to do to make it stop. Steve pulls away from him and reassuringly pets his nape. "It's okay," he says gently, waiting for Bucky's shoulders relax before releasing his neck.

Steve can't sleep that night. He's restless and nervous and can't lie still long enough to relax. He gets to his feet and wanders to Bucky's room, knocking awkwardly on the heavy door. 

When Bucky answers, Steve can tell he hasn't slept yet. For a wild moment Steve wonders if he even sleeps at all anymore. “I wanted to…” he trails off, realizing he’s not really sure what he wanted to do as soon as he starts to speak. “Uh, can I come in?”

Bucky cocks his head at him before stepping aside.

“You’re lonely.”

Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that. He shrugs.

“You miss him.”

“You,” Steve corrects automatically, before realizing what he’s said. “I mean I don’t - I don’t miss...you’re him, Bucky, you’re right here.”

Bucky considers this for a moment. “Okay.”

Steve sighs. “Look this is probably going to sound stupid but can I - can I stay here tonight? I’ll sleep on the floor, I just -” as he says it he realizes something and asks, “Buck, where’s your bed?”

Bucky points to the other side of the room, where a long piece of wood is placed over a set of legs that look to belong to something about the size of a twin bed to make a table. It’s covered by books and art supplies and a small radio.

“Too soft.”

Steve nods. At least he understands that. He sees a small pile of blankets in the opposite corner of the room and sits on it. “Is this familiar?”

Bucky nods. “I...protected you,” he says after a moment, his words slow and halting. It’s a vague concept he’s not quite sure is right.

Steve smiles at the use of the word ‘I’. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”

Bucky looks almost bewildered. He hadn’t wanted to be right. He doesn’t understand the reasoning behind why he would ever be used as protection rather than destruction. Steve’s smile fades. He forces himself to stay on the subject. “You pulled me out of a lot of trouble back in the day.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Bucky responds, his voice that same airy parroting as before. Steve winces. Bucky watches him curiously as Steve falls silent, staring at his feet.

“Did I wake you up?”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve wants to ask, but he can’t. The words are stuck dead in his throat and he sits there, waiting for Bucky to say something and knowing he won’t.

Finally, he does. “Wasn’t sleeping.”

Steve jumps at the bait. “Will you?”

Bucky looks confused. He doesn’t say anything. Steve doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t know what’s holding him back when back before the war they used to do it all the time, but he can’t. He was smaller back then. Sickly. And Bucky wasn’t. It was all right for Steve to be needy.

“I’ll go back to my room if you...want,” Steve finally mumbles.

Bucky stares at him blankly. “You said sleep here. On the floor. This is what you wanted.” He sounds confused, just something else he doesn’t understand, and Steve feels guilty for making this harder for him.

“That’s - yeah, it is.”

Bucky nods and reaches up to turn out the light.

It’s easier in the dark. When Bucky lies down next to him Steve presses his side up against Bucky’s chest. Bucky doesn’t react at all for a moment, and then it’s as if muscle memory kicks in, and Steve feels the heavy drop of steel on his chest.

It’s hot to the touch, nearly scalding, and Steve lets out a hiss through his teeth. When the arm shifts away, Steve grabs it wildly, suddenly panicked Bucky is going to get up and run away. “No!” he shouts, and Bucky jumps. “No, it’s fine.”

They lie still and quiet for long enough that Steve thinks Bucky has fallen asleep until he hears his voice. “This is not the first time.”

Steve shakes his head, staring resolutely at the ceiling. “No.”

“Nightmares.”

Steve nods. His throat feels tight, and he swallows hard. “Yeah.”

_”It’s okay Steve, I’m here, it’s okay. Scoot over, I’ve got you.”_

Silence stretches on for another few minutes. Again, Steve starts to think Bucky has fallen asleep when he says, “I took them from you.”

Steve doesn’t know what he means by that. “Huh?”

“They’re mine now. The nightmares.”

Steve closes his eyes and counts to three before he musters the ability to talk at all. “Yeah.” It comes out like a croak, and he blanches; clears his throat. He reaches up and runs his hand through Bucky’s hair as he measures control of his voice before speaking again. “Guess it’s my turn, then.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything else. Steve listens to his breathing going slow and even against his chest, muffled by the quiet whirring of his arm. He bows his head to place a kiss in Bucky’s hair, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. 

It’s the first time Steve has slept through the night since 1945.

**Author's Note:**

> I lied I'm probably going to write more I'm sorry
> 
> title from "Spent Gladiator pt 2" by The Mountain Goats


End file.
